


like a worshta.

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Marvel Jotunn Culture, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 04:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15332271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Loki has known Angrboða for two weeks now.She's starting to get used to him.





	like a worshta.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Drachenkinder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drachenkinder/gifts).



> Prompt: ☀️ loki/angrboda please! I would love some of their early life together. Some happy time or protected memory for Loki. from drachenkinder.

Before him, Loki’s vision is beginning to swim. He stares down at the netting, which he has been carefully untangling, and he watches as the purple-brown strands and strings seem to meld together, feels himself sway–

“Have you eaten?” Loki glances up from his self-assigned chore, and he looks at Angrboða. This situation is… Precarious. He has been here but two weeks now, sleeping beside the cool body of Angrboða in her cabin of stone here on the shore, and every day, she tells him to go away.

This is different.

“What?” Loki asks, staring up at her blearily. She crosses her arms over her chest, setting her strong jaw, and the red on her eyes…  _Shifts_. Loki stares in awe as the red lenses retract, baring the eye underneath, his lips parted. Angrboða’s irises are a deep purple, the colour of ripe plums, and Loki’s mouth is dry. 

“Have you  _eaten_?” she demands, for a second time, her lips curled into something that is almost a snarl. 

“Not since dawn.” She stares at him.

“Get up,” she orders.

“But I’m untangling this–”

“ _Get up_ ,” she repeats, and he obeys. Shoving him in the shoulder, she pushes Loki back toward the cabin, and Loki lets her pull him to sit down on the stone bench. He watches, a little dizzy, as Angrboða takes up a fish, raw and wrapped in some sort of seaweed, and puts it whole into her mouth. She chews, a little messily, and swallows. Loki glances at the plate. “Eat.”

“It’s– But it’s raw.”

“Raw,” Angrboða repeats, as if the word doesn’t register with her. “Eat one.”

“But–”

“Eat. One.” Loki presses his lips together, scowling, but then he reaches for a fish. It is the length of his hand, perhaps, and as thick as two fingers: it smells  _strongly_  of the ocean, and he hesitates, sniffing at it uncertainly. The scent is pungent, and Loki knows that most of Asgard would shudder at it, but it’s actually… It’s pleasant. He likes it.

He hesitates a moment longer, and then he takes a bite, taking off the fish’s head and tasting it on his tongue. The weed is bitter and sharp, and the fish itself is  _salty,_ bursting on his tongue with an acidic tang–

And it is as if Loki realises just how hungry he is.

He eats fish after fish, until he feels  _full_ , and abruptly, drowsy. Angrboða is watching him, her dark blue lips quirked into a small grin, and the movement serves to bare her sharp teeth, making Loki shiver.

“Bed,” she says, nodding to the stone slab behind them.

“I’m too full,” Loki says. “If you attempt to fuck me now, I’ll be violently ill.” Angrboða frowns at him, but then she reaches out. Her cold fingers are surprisingly delicate where they touch against his cheek, and he leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. He’s so  _tired_  - when did he become so tired? He’s been working for hours, doing his best to make himself useful…

“Bed,” Angrboða decides, and she drags Loki up by his shoulders, pulling him toward the bed. Loki lets out a noise of token protest, but then she drags him into her  _lap_ , and he feels hot embarrassment spring over his skin–

His face is pressed to the crook of her neck, and she smells like seaspray and stone, and he leans right into it. Her fingers play over his side, so gently despite the  _size_  of her. This is very different indeed to being told gruffly to go away, before being dragged into bed to fuck once the sun goes down - this is–

She plays her fingers over his hair, and he sighs, softly.

“So small,” she murmurs. “I like that. You fit very easily in my bed, like a  _worshta_.”

“What is a worshta?” Loki asks. 

“A winged cat, with many teeth.”

“I’m not a cat.” Angrboða’s laugh is a low rumble in her chest, and she slowly lies down, pulling Loki against the hard, flat panel of her naked chest. Loki shivers for the cold, but then she begins to rub gentle circles on his full belly, and he cannot help the soft groan that escapes from between his lips.

“Exactly,” she decides in a whisper, “like a  _worshta_.”

“Oh,  _shut up,”_  Loki mutters, and he leans into the pillow of her strong, muscular arm. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up on Tumblr](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/faq). Requests always open.


End file.
